


Life Without Hunting

by Word_Smith_94



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Boys Kissing, Dean gets away from John, Florist Dean Winchester, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Stanford Era (Supernatural), Tattoo Artist Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27186344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Word_Smith_94/pseuds/Word_Smith_94
Summary: With Sammy away at Stanford, there's nothing keeping Dean with John, dealing with his crap. He meets a girl studying psych who asks him some questions that makes Dean reevaluate his life. So when he meets a cute guy with blue eyes, Dean realizes that he needs to be honest with the guy before starting anything because one night stands aren't his thing anymore. What happens when Dean shares his biggest secret? And when he gets a visitor at the same time?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 109





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a cute florist/tattoo artist fic, but then it became another "what happens when Dean gets away on his own" kind of fic. *shrug* If only Dean really had been able to live his own life.

Dean slips through the old books to check what the prior owner ordered every year to prepare for Valentines Day. Technically, it’s not the end of the world if he runs out; it just means he’s sold out. But it means he’ll lose out on profits he’d otherwise make. So he’s doing his research and preparing.

Sam would be so proud.

Thinking about Sam dulls his mood, so Dean pushes it aside and starts compiling his order. The website says it’ll be two weeks before he gets anything, but there are three weeks to go, so it’s fine.

The door dings, and Dean looks up from his laptop to watch the woman click around on her heels while smelling various flowers. There isn’t much point, not with so many flowers close together and sharing scents, but whatever.

Eventually she makes her way to the desk at the back of the store and taps her fake nails on the counter. “Can you help me?”

Dean wants to ask her if she sees anyone else to help her, but he bites it back. “What are you looking for?”

“I need something to tell my cunt of a best friends that she can fuck right off if she thinks I’m going to ignore her fucking my husband.” The woman crosses her arms, taps her shoe against the linoleum floor.

“Yellow roses, peonies, and butterfly weed.” Dean hid his interest in flowers from everyone, but he knows all of the meaning. “And monkshood is really good. It’s poisonous,” he adds to her raised eyebrow.

Moving out from behind the counter, Dean grabs his shears and heads to the various plants he named. He snips a few of each to give her an example of what it could look like. “Does this work?”

“Does it have to be so pretty?” she grumps.

Dean looks at the yellow and purple flowers and reins in the instinct to ask what the hell she expected when she asked for flowers. “I can toss some weeds in there to make them look uglier.”

The woman beams like he offered to work for free. Dean moves back to his laptop to enter the bouquet details and double it for pricing. Fifty dollars later, Dean watches her stride out of his store with a little sway in her hips that wasn’t there when she walked in.

Rebound sex is not his thing.

It doesn’t take long to create the two bouquets even with needing to head back to the greenhouse for weeds. They’re way too pretty for people who won’t understand the message, but a job’s a job.

He pages his delivery guy who responds that he’ll be there in half an hour. Dean decides to check on his plants while he waits and doesn’t have any customers.

The lower shelf sits at hip height full of little plants the people can take home and grow themselves. He checks the succulents, makes sure they aren’t too wet to avoid molding. After moving down the entire left side through all the succulents, he moves to the right side.

Simple flowers that look pretty but are easy to grow, good for people who want something but can’t break the bank. Cushion poms in a variety of colors, button poms for a little variety, and plenty of daisies. Dean loves playing with colors, from the standard six in the rainbow to shade after shade with even just the tiniest of differences.

Higher up, the more expensive flowers like roses, lilies, irises, sunflowers. The color here all appears naturally, no colored water used, but he is not above mixing and matching his roses when growing new plants to see if he can create new flower colors. Someone else might have come up with them too, but he likes making them himself.

There’s only so many times he can check on his plants before he’s just repeating his work for no reason. Dean decides to swap over to his online work. Flowers pay a lot better than he thought, and he’s used to not having much, but he’s trying to save for the future now.

Who knew you could make so much money writing stories? It’s not much, but he’s slowly gaining a following for his horror stories, and people pay to read his stories. Any hunters who read will know the author is a hunter, but when people see ‘fiction,’ they don’t expect major details are real.

He loses a little to the reader who edits for him, but it’s worth it. Dean might be able to spin his memories as stories, but that doesn’t make him a good writer.

After needlessly double checking that he’s the only person in the shop, Dean settles in to write a werewolf story. People love them, but he can’t quite bring himself to do a ‘full shift’ werewolf no matter how many times people ask. They just don’t do that.

By five minutes before closing, Dean’s working on the climax and ready to head home. Not much to do after dark when you don’t hunt things that go bump in the night.

But the bell over the door rings, and Dean has to put on his customer service face. “Good afternoon.”

His new customer smiles and starts looking at the plants, saving Dean. Who knew men who look like him bought flowers? Messy dark hair that Dean wants to make even messier matching a scruffy shadow on his cheeks. Pale skin covered in colorful ink that lends together so Dean can’t see the designs from a distance.

Makes him wonder what he’ll see up close.

Neither man says anything as Dean’s customer continues perusing the flowers. Dean soaks up more details of his appearance, black tee shirt just tight enough to hint at more without being explicit. Jeans ride a little low on his hips but still cup his ass just right.

Three minutes after closing, Dean can’t stay quiet anymore. “Can I help you find something?”

The bluest eyes look over at him above the softest smile ever. “I’m looking for something for my friend. She’s having a bad day, getting out of a bad relationship, and I wanted to brighten her day.”

What is it with bad relationships today? Dean hops off his stool and walks over to the section with premade bouquets. “Might be easier to pick from here instead of building your own.” Dean looks over his shoulder to draw him closer. “Maybe this one?”

Sunflowers tend to make everyone smile, and some orange and pink flowers provide extra brightness for smiles. The man cocks his head, considering it, then shakes his head. “It makes me smile, but she’s more into black than bright.”

Oh, this is perfect. Dean moves to the rejects fridge where canceled orders rest until he finds a pace for them. “How about this one?” Black roses and deep purple irises frame three blood red roses. It was expensive, but with the nonrefundable deposit, he can sell it at a serious discount.

“That’s perfect.” The man takes it from Dean, presses his beautiful face into the blooms to breathe in the scent. “How much?”

Dean does some quick calculations, figures some profit is better than nothing with this since he’s pretty sure no one else will like it. “Thirty dollars.”

The guy winces a bit before checking the flowers again. “Twenty dollars, and I’ll redesign your front windows.” He gestures to the windows that still say ‘Wilson’s Flowers’ even though Mr. Wilson sold the place to Dean almost a year ago.

“You assume I want to change the name and that I like your work.” Dean isn’t opposed to a new name, exactly, but how does he know what this guy can do?

Smirking, the man raises his left sleeve up to his shoulder and turns to show Dean a well-defined muscle. It takes him a little too long to realize that he’s supposed to be looking at the wing tattoo covering his skin.

“Designed it myself,” he says, snapping Dean out of his daze. He’d like to trace those lines with his tongue. The man rotates his arm to better show off his inner forearm, a black and white leopard face stares up at Dean. “This too.”

If nothing else, he’s a talented artist. “Twenty five, and if I like the design you show me, I’ll pay you back five bucks.” Dean takes a step back so he doesn’t touch. Such temptation.

“Deal.” Dean takes the flowers back and heads back to the counter to wrap them up to be carried out. His customer follows, pulling out a wallet and putting cash on the counter along with a card. “I’m right next door, so feel free to stop by when you want to see your design.”

Dean hands over the flowers with a frown. “Don’t you need time to work on it?”

A light flush covers his cheeks making him even cuter. It also draws Dean’s attention to the silver bars through the outside of his right eyebrow, the hoop on the right side of his lower lip, the trio of studs in each ear. He was really trying to avoid looking at his face so he wouldn’t stare too much, or at least wouldn’t get caught staring.

“It’s something I do in my spare time, make new designs for other stores along the block. I just need to update it with your name.” The man checks the counter and picks up a card. “Haven’t updated these yet?”

“What’s the point? Everyone knows it as Wilson’s, and the door says Wilson’s, so the card might as well match.” Dean doesn’t really care, not when it helps him keep a lower profile.

“You really going to make me ask for your name? I was trying to be subtle.”

Oh. Dean left more than just hunting behind when he finally ran away from John Winchester, and he’s a little out of practice. “Dean.” He holds out his hand to shake, but the man takes his hand and turns it to press a kiss to the back of his hand.

“Castiel.” He steps back and holds up the dark bouquet. “But you can call me Cas. Stop by any time.” He flashes a big smile and turns to walk away, a little extra sway in his hips. Dean can’t help himself, watches that ass the entire way out of his store.

Dean proceeds to close up shop and head upstairs to the little apartment over the shop. Still blows his mind that Wilson was willing to sell the whole building for so little. He hustled a lot of pool to get the down payment on the place. Dean Wesson is sitting pretty.

He checks all the safety measures in the space, salt and iron and sigils, then settles down for dinner. If only Sam could see him now, eating health food crap. Sure, he gets a giant piece of pie for dessert, but he didn’t eat this healthy before. The advantage of settling down and having a steady income: healthy food and chances to work out without getting shot at.

It does remove some of the motivation when running though.

Dean doesn’t quote know what to do with himself in the evenings now. One night with a psych major, and he’s shaking up his whole life. Less drinking, less sex, working a real job, cutting toxic people out of his life. It’s good, but damn is it boring sometimes.

Curious, he pulls up the website for Cas’ store. The hours say it’s still open, so he heads back downstairs and over to the store.

Inside he finds only a few people milling around. A woman lounges behind the counter, playing with her red hair. Behind a half wall, a man bends over another man lying on a large table, tattoo machine in hand as he works on the back of his calf. Dean doesn’t see Cas, so he gives the pretty redhead a shot.

Sauntering over to the counter, Dean picks up the moment she notices him and flashes a big smile. “Hey, gorgeous, what’s your name?”

She smiles back but hesitates for a moment. “You’re that florist, the one next door Cas won’t stop talking about.”

Apparently Dean isn’t the only one staring at asses. “That’d be me. Dean Wesson at your service.” He kisses the back of her hand, realizing as he stands that Cas did the same to him. Hopefully it meant a little more to Cas.

She giggles while pulling her hand back. “Anna. Wait here, and I’ll get Cas.” As she walks away, Dean checks out her ass out of habit. When he realizing he’s comparing it to Cas’ ass and finding it lacking, he blushes and looks down at his feet.

He isn’t used to this and doesn’t quite know how to react. Normally, he’d push away any focus on Cas and only pay attention to Anna. But things have changed. _Dean_ has changed, so he can do whatever he wants.

Waiting for Cas, he notices the building around him. Large glass wall to let in plenty of light but also a serious security hazard. Front counter of glass cases with this wood backing. The half wall provides the fist bit of coverage in the entire place.

Even the other walls to what he assumes are tattooing rooms aren’t full height. Moving around silently would be near impossible, and too many creatures can climb walls. This is the last kind of building he’d want to caught in. No walls outside, but at least you can run away outside.

Cas appears from one of the back rooms with a smile on his face and papers in his hands. He walks up to Dean instead of the front counter, putting his hand on Dean’s arm. “You want to move back to my space? It’ll get us out of the way when our later appointments come in.”

Shit, is he messing things up? “Do you have shit to do? I can come back later.”

“I don’t have any appointments,” Cas assures him while linking their arms and starting to lead him down the hallway. It takes Dean a few steps to realize they’re moving. Smooth bastard.

Dean clocks one door on his left, one on the right, as they move into the second door on the left. There’s two more on the left, but they’re closed like the others, so he has no idea what’s in the place.

Inside the small room, there’s just enough space for a padded table to lie on, a small desk, two chairs, and what looks like an oversized tool chest with a tattoo machine on top. When Dean turns and sees a bookshelf in the corner, he admires just how much stuff Cas can squeeze into a small space.

“Your work?” Dean studies the drawings on the wall, all black and white and startling realistic. He didn’t know tattoos could look as good as a picture. Sure, he sees pictures online, but he hasn’t seen many, if any, in person.

Until he saw Cas, honestly.

“Yeah.” Cas stands next to him, looking at his work. “I’ve tattooed all of these on someone at some point. I like to keep some of my favorites for new clients to see.” He turns to look Dean up and down. “You have any tattoos?”

Dean shakes his head while moving to take the chair next to the desk, leaving the wheeled chair by the table for Cas. “Nope. Considered a few but haven’t found anything I want on my ass permanently.”

Cas snorts while sitting in his chair. “Doesn’t have to be on your ass, although that’s a good place to start. Skin isn’t too sensitive, and there’s fat and muscle there, not bones.”

“You look at my ass long to figure that out?” Dean winks at Cas the way he would a pretty woman because he doesn’t have to hide his attraction to a man.

Cas laughs while kicking his boots up on the padded table. “Didn’t take long to realize that, darling. And I’d tattoo that ass for free.”

Dean blushes at the praise, not used to such open compliments. “Thanks, but I’m still not sure what I’d get.”

“Then why don’t we talk window designs?” Cas reaches over to pull on Dean’s chair until he scoots it over next to Cas,’ their arms brushing together. “I did these with ‘Wilson’ as the name, but it’s easy to update to your name.”

“Wesson,” Dean tells him, pressing a hand to his chest at the lie. Given what’s on his mortgage and business license and current driver’s license, he doesn’t have a choice though.

Cas hands Dean a page with a beautiful drawing of several flowers surrounding the name Wilson. As Dean starts identifying the flowers, Cas scribbles away to his left. It loses a little in black and white, although still beautiful, but Dean would love to see this in color.

“Here.” Cas slides over a slip with Wesson drawn in the same style to cover Wilson. “Close enough that the spacing isn’t that different. You like it?”

More importantly, Dean likes the enthusiasm on Cas’ face when he shows off his design. Reaching into his back pocket, Dean hands over a five-dollar bill. “Love it.”

“Good.” Cas presses his arm harder against Dean’s. “It’s not that hard to do. If you get the paint and scrape off the old design, I’ll do the new design for free.”

“Really?” Dean turns to Cas and dares to turn his chair so they’re face to face. “What’s in it for you? Because I don’t know many people who do big favors for strangers.” Being suspicious keeps him alive, so he doesn’t feel bad about asking and pushing.

“The view beyond the glass is reward enough,” Cas tells him, “and I’d like a chance to see you more often.”

In the five months since Dean moved in, he hasn’t seen his neighbors much mostly because he hasn’t done much to meet them. Now that he knows what his next door neighbor looks like, meeting the neighbors sounds a lot better.

“As long as you remember that glass is two ways, not just one way.” Dean looks Cas up and down, lingering on his crotch because he’s seen the ass, and he wants to know everything he has.

Cas growls and leans forward into Dean’s personal space. “So glad I wasn’t imagining those eyes on my ass.” He closes the remaining space between them and presses his lips to Dean’s.

It’s awkward over the arms of two chairs, but they manage to keep kissing. Dean moans at the scrape of stubble against his cheeks then freezes. Women don’t feel like that. Cas notices and pulls back, leaving a hand on Dean’s arm.

“You okay?” Dean shivers, and Cas pushes away enough to roll back some. “Or are you just curious?” His tone drops, humor and cheer completely gone.

Dean sighs, hands opening and closing as he tries to come up with the right words to explain. “I’m not curious. I know what I like.” His voice drops while admitting it. “But I’ve never done anything with a guy. I didn’t want to risk it while living with my family.”

John Winchester never said anything against gays, but that doesn’t mean Dean didn’t see the way he looked at them. He needed time to keep Sammy whole, keep Sammy out of trouble, so he stuck to women to make sure he never did anything to get kicked out.

The glare on Cas’ face soften slightly as he reaches out to take Dean’s hand. When Dean doesn’t flinch or pull back, his glare fades completely. “So you’re not hiding, but you need to move slow?”

“Yeah. My brother left for college, and I left my dad, no reason to stay.” Dean sighs and flips his hand over to hold Cas’ hand. “I want to do this because you’re cute and can draw super well and can probably do even more, but breaking old habits won’t be easy.”

Cas moves to sit on the padded table, tugging on Dean’s hands so he’s standing between his thighs. “I’ve been there. It isn’t easy learning to be yourself all the time, not looking over your shoulder, but people can learn. I got to, once I graduated college, got my own job, didn’t need my parents anymore. I’d be honored to be here while you learn.”

Dean smiles at Cas and takes a deep breath before leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. His stubble feels weird, feels _different_ , but it’s a good different, and Dean doesn’t jerk away this time. “Thanks.”

They smile at each other until Anna shouts for Cas, breaking the moment. They giggle in unison before Cas escorts Dean out of the shop and goes back to work. Dean watches his ass as he walks away before heading up to his apartment space.

It’s still early, but Dean doesn’t know what to do with his time, so he goes to bed. He’ll just get up earlier to go running. It’s fine. He'll figure out something to do with his time tomorrow. 


	2. Chapter 2

Finding paints for the front windows takes Dean a lot longer than expected. He’s still not quite used to being able to find everything he needs online. Hunters don’t have mailing addresses. Once they arrive, Dean stares at them and tries to gather the courage to go next door to talk to Cas.

They’ve been texting, Anna handing him a card with Cas’ number as he headed out the other night. It’s hard, talking about his past without giving too much away. Moving around schools, some interesting stories from meeting way more people than normal, sure, but he’s still hiding a serious secret.

Dean pulls himself together and heads to the tattoo shop. It’s early for them, only eleven in the morning, but Cas appears with a smile behind the door to let him in. “Hey.”

Cas leans in close to kiss him, and Dean turns into it, telling him it’s okay. They kiss for a moment before Cas pulls him deeper into the shop. “I saw you cleaned off the windows.”

“Yeah, the paint arrived,” Dean tells him while settling on the padded table as Cas prepares his tools, “so I wanted to get things ready.”

“So I’ll have to start painting.” Cas grins up at Dean while kneeling on the floor, and Dean does his best not to be affected. “You sure you still want me to work on you.” His gaze drops as he bites his lip. “I mean, work _for_ you.”

Dean would love that, but he hesitates, and he sees as soon as Cas realizes. Cas winces a bit but moves back, giving Dean space. “No, wait, I mean-”

“It’s okay.” Cas gives him a wry smile. “We’ll go at your speed, I promise.”

He hates seeing Cas look so down, and Dean decides it’s worth a little shame to make him feel better. “It’s not the sex, you’re not pushing, I promise. Hell, I jack off picturing you in the shower every night. It’s what I’m not telling you that feels wrong.”

Cas looks confused which is better than heart, but it’s not as good as playful sexiness. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

Dean takes a deep breath, tries to remember some of the stuff that psych girl told him. “I’m not the same person I was before I left my family. I’m trying to be better, and part of that is not keeping secrets. It’s a big thing, and I don’t want to hide it.”

Moving closer, his eyes on Dean’s the whole time, Cas wraps him up in his arms. “Thank you. My ex wasn’t exactly out to everyone, so I was his dirty little secret. Secret from your past and making someone a secret, two different things, but I appreciate the honesty.”

“It’s not something to discuss in public, and I’ve been learning to cook. Want to come over tonight for dinner? I can make spaghetti and meatballs, maybe even branch out to garlic bread.” Dean’s about ninety percent sure he can make that without issues.

“Sounds like a plan.” Cas continues hugging him, and they sway side to side. “Can I kiss you again before you leave?”

“Please do.” Dean wiggles his eyebrows at Cas, getting a cute little giggle in response. Cas kisses him, soft lips and soft skin since he shaved today. Dean kisses him back and realizes he misses the scruff.

He runs his hand over Cas’ cheek as the kiss ends and he takes a breath. “No need to shave before dinner.”

Now Cas is the one wiggling eyebrows before kissing Dean one more time and nuzzling his cheek. “No shaving before tonight, and I’ll see you later. We can discuss the painting after talking, okay?”

Dean agrees and then he gives Cas one more kiss before pulling himself away. He needs to get back to the shop. Two weeks before Valentine’s Day, and apparently lots of people like to come in to order their flowers instead of ordering online.

Of course today’s the quiet day, only two people appearing in the shop. They don’t provide enough distraction, so Dean pulls up his most recent story and works on finishing the ending.

This one ends a little differently than the others. While Dean would love to believe that hunters always win, he knows reality and decides to write a story with the monster winning. The reality sucks, but this is just fiction, right?

The bell above the door dings, drawing him out of his story, and Dean looks up to see Cas. He waves him over, working on the last few sentences he has in this chapter, Cas’ timing practically perfect.

“Just a moment.” Cas hooks his chin over Dean’s shoulder as he keeps typing, then he jerks upright and spins Dean around on his stool.

“Is this your big secret, that you write?” Cas looks way too excited for just finding out that Dean writes.

“No, this isn’t a ‘put sex on hold’ kind of secret.”

“Oh.” Cas pouts a bit. “Well, I can’t wait to read this one. From the bit I just read, I’m pretty sure I recognize your work. David Winters?”

Dean nods, not sure what to say. He’s never had to discuss his stories with a fan face to face. “You’ve read my stories?”

Cas laughs and kisses him on the forehead. “Something like that. Online, I go by Charles Nabokov.”

“Oh!” Dean stares at Cas. “You’re my editor?”

“Yeah, that’s how I recognized your work so fast. I found your first story online and totally loved it. When you told me I could be your editor, I almost lost my mind with excitement.” Cas pulls up his shirt to show off a tattoo over his right hipbone. “I got this tattoo after looking into some of the resources you mentioned, an anti-possession mark.”

The odds of ever running into a demon are pretty low, but Dean admits that a tattoo makes a lot more sense than a talisman. You can lose a talisman. If you’re losing a tattoo, you’re already fucked.

“And your work is so realistic. I have no idea how you portray serious fear and horror so well,” Cas continues. Dean’s fingers twitch wanting to touch the skin he just briefly saw, but that’s for later. And the topic isn’t exactly super arousing.

“Yeah, that’s part of what we need to talk about.” Dean shrugs a bit. “I write it because I’ve felt it before.”

Cas stares at him. “You’ve felt fear like this before? What made you feel that way?”

The shop is not the place for this conversation, but he hasn’t started dinner yet. Well, he can cook and talk at the same time. “Why don’t you come upstairs? We can start talking.”

Narrowing his eyes, Cas looks confused but nods. “That works. I didn’t know there’s an upstairs to this place.”

“It’s the same building but not completely connected. You can only get in from the stairs up the back.” Dean moves toward the front door to lock it, but someone comes in before he can.

The customer looks at Dean and just stares. Dean stares back at him, not sure he can trust his eyes. “Sam.”

“Dean.” Sam takes a step forward, and they throw their arms around each other. Dean hugs his brother like he hasn’t seen him in years. After years together, a few months apart feels like so much longer.

They hug until Cas clears his throat behind them, and Dean takes a step back. He grabs Sam’s hand, reaches over to lock the door and flip the sign to closed, then he pulls Sam to the back of the store to meet Cas.

“Cas, this is my brother, Sam. Sam, this is Cas. He owns the shop next door and is going to redo the design on the front window.” Dean considers telling him that he’s also his editor, but Sam doesn’t know about the stories right now.

“Nice to meet you.” Cas holds out a hand, face blank, and Sam shakes it.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

And that’s the end of the conversation. Everyone stands in place, no one sure what to say. Dean didn’t plan for this, but he can work with it. “Sam, Cas and I were going to have dinner together. There’s a secret that I need to tell Cas.”

Sam’s eyes widen as he looks between Cas and Dean. “Wait, you mean….” Sam trails off and waves his hands like he’s trying to come up with a sign for ‘hunting.’

“Yeah. Don’t want to lie, even by omission.” Dean reaches over and takes Cas’ hand. Sure, it’s been a week, and it’s the first time he’s ever been this close to a guy, but there’s just something about Cas.

“Well, that’s going to be fun. Want some help?” Sam turns to Cas with a smile. “It’s not exactly a small secret.”

Cas starts to look worried. “Not a small secret? You’re starting to make me nervous.”

Dean sighs. “No matter what happens, we won’t hurt you.” He deliberately doesn’t think about the six guns and dozens of blades hidden all over his apartment.

Looking between the two, Cas really doesn’t look sure but nods. “Alright. As long as you promise me garlic bread.”

“I can make that,” Sam says, looking over at Dean. “You’re cooking?”

“Spaghetti and meatballs.” He shrugs at Sam’s surprise. “I’m tired of diner food and takeout, so I’m learning to cook.”

Sam nods, and Dean grabs his laptop and leads the others up to his space. He grabs beers for everyone, the only alcohol in his place, and starts grabbing the ingredients for dinner. “You here long, Sam?”

“No, just the weekend.” Sam hefts a backpack Dean didn’t see before. “I hoped I could crash with you.”

“Of course.” Whatever Sam needs, Dean will make sure it happens.

Silence falls between the three of them as Dean starts cooking. Cas breaks the silence with a question, “So, you’re brothers?”

“Yeah, Sammy’s my little brother.” Sam shakes his head but doesn’t argue. “He went to Stanford this year, got a serious scholarship. They’re practically paying him to go to school,” Dean boasts, so damn proud of his brother.

“Doesn’t explain how you got here,” Sam says while playing with his beer bottle.

“There’s wasn’t any reason for me to stay anymore.” Dean really hopes Sam drops it, doesn’t want Sam to realize why he did stick around so long. “So I decided to figure out what I want to do.”

“And it’s flowers?” Sam raises an eyebrow at his brother. “I guess I can see that. It’s calm, peaceful, not destructive.”

It was a random thing, running into old man Wilson, but Dean’s grateful it happened. “Not destructive. And there’s a decent online market for protective herbs.”

Sam nods, and Dean can see Cas’ confusion across the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, he starts to explain. “There are things that go bump in the night. All those stories I wrote, I write them because I’ve seen those creatures. I’ve fought with them, I’ve dealt with them.” He hesitates. “I’ve killed them. When Sammy got out, left for school, I figured I could too.”

Dean focuses on filling the pot with water for boiling the noodles. Sam stands next to him, silent support. Footsteps sound behind him, and he turns to see Cas staring at him. “You just wrote a story about a ghost haunting a house. You’re telling me that’s real?”

“The exact story?” Dean shakes his head. “But ghosts? Yeah, they’re real. Salt and iron will get them to step back, but the only way to get rid of them is to dig up the bones, pour salt over them, then burn them.”

Cas laughs while leaning against the counter. “You know, this makes some of my memories make a little more sense.”

Both Winchesters stop and stare at Cas. “Make sense?” Sam asks.

“When I was a kid, really young,” Cas explains, “I could swear that my house was haunted. My dad is really religious and a drunk. Whenever things were really bad, when I needed to avoid Dad, this spirit would appear, forcing me to turn around or walk through it.”

Cas shrugs as the brothers keep staring at him. “It seemed rude. So I’d turn around and go back to my room. By the time I was ten, I could figure out Dad’s mood myself, and I stopped seeing the spirit. Makes me sound a little less crazy.”

Dean shrugs a little. “I guess so. It’s hard to see it from your perspective. We’ve known about this stuff forever.”

Cas settles himself on the counter. “So what else is there, besides ghosts?”

“Well, there’s a lot of different kind of ghosts,” Sam tells him, listing off a variety of ghosts Dad has hunted. “But there’s also the non spiritual things.”

“Werewolves, vampires, shapeshifters to name a few,” Dean says, trying to pick ones that most people would recognize. “And then there are monsters in other parts of the world that we’ve only heard of but won’t find because we’re in the US.”

Sam nods. “Most mythology and folklore you might read is a lot more based in reality than you might expect. There might not be many left, they might not be that powerful anymore, but they existed at one point or another.”

Cas nods, taking another sip of beer, and Dean can’t hold back anymore. “You’re taking this really well, way better than I expected. Most people freak out when they hear about this kind of stuff. You’re just nodding along and acting like we’re telling you that we like to quilt.”

Cas reaches over and takes Dean’s hand. “I guess, I don’t think you’re crazy. You seem perfectly sane to me, and I’ve seen a few people who are crazy. Honestly, I’m not sure I’ll believe you until I actually see something.”

Dean decides to let it be. Sam’s here, and Cas isn’t turning him away. He’s not really sure Cas understood, that he’s done things many people wouldn’t forgive, but Dean leaves it for now. “Let’s hope you never have to see anything.” He focuses on making dinner again, wants to make sure he doesn’t burn the sauce, turn the noodles into mush.

“I second that.” Sam finishes working on the garlic bread and turns on the oven so they can heat up. As soon as Dean’s hands are empty, Sam turns him and wraps his arms around him. “I hope we don’t have to see anything again either.”

Dean hugs Sam back, lingering in the hug. “Makes two of us. This place doesn’t have many old buildings, only one old cemetery, no one in the area from the founding families.” He shrugs while focusing on the noodles again.

“You checked out the town before coming?” Cas looks between the Winchesters, brow furrowed. “Is that normal?”

“For hunters, probably.” Dean shrugs because he doesn’t know anyone who has actually left the hunter world. Then again, most don’t start as young as he and Sam did. “I want out. I know what’s out there, and I have no issues protecting the town I live in, but I didn’t want to pick a place that already had issues. Or that was likely to have issues.”

Cas continues looking between them. “What exactly does it mean to protect the town?”

There it is. Dean had a feeling Cas was taking it too well. “It depends. With spirits, generally we banish them to the afterlife by burning the bones.”

“Like in the story with the hook man?”

“Exactly.” Dean found the legend and figures it might actually be something. It made for a good story, building off the fear people already have about a man with a hook for a hand, killing people.

“And what about something with a body? Like the story you wrote about the wendigo?” Cas gets up and grabs Dean’s hands, turning him around so they’re looking at each other. “What do you do when they have a body?”

“Depends on the monster.” Dean doesn’t look away from Cas. He’s been admitting plenty of things about himself, things he might not like to admit, even this. “Sometimes, just dealing with the bones isn’t enough.”

Cas swallows, and Dean knows that he understands. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” When the timer beeps, Dean pulls his hands free and drains them, checking the cause to make sure it’s not too hot. It’s perfect, so he turns off the burner.

Sam pulls the bread out of the oven and puts it on a cutting board, taking it to the table. “Trust me, I was the last person who wanted to be a hunter. Problem is, once a creature starts killing, it won’t stop. So either someone who knows about them handles it, or they keep killing. It’s not pretty, but it’s the only option we’ve found.”

“And you have to be the ones to do it?” Cas serves himself, Dean following him. “Why you?”

“Because something killed our mother,” Dean says, “and we spent the next eighteen years on the road, moving from hunt to hunt, Dad learning everything he could to try and figure out what killed Mom. He wanted revenge, and we were along for the ride.”

When Sam puts a hand on his shoulder, Dean realizes how bitter he sounds. Sure, he did what he was told, learned how to hunt, but he had his own goals in life. He doesn’t remember those goals, but having a home, a place to stay has always been one.

“Most don’t pick the life,” Sam explains while sitting at the table. “Tragedy strikes, and then you end up in the know and responding.”

Cas takes a few bites of spaghetti. “So you might not know how to fix the plumbing, but you could handle a monster attack?”

“Something like that.” Dean focuses on eating, glad he was honest but not really wanting to talk about it anymore. They all eat without talking, only settling once their plates are clear.

“So, is it something that affects you every day?” Cas fiddles with the crust of his garlic bread. “Like, do you have a different lifestyle?”

Sam snorts, and Dean smacks his brother. Yes, he’s glad to have him back, but he’s still his little brother. “Since I’m not hunting, no. But I still guard my house differently and check the spaces around me, the people I meet differently. Many monsters pass as human.”

Cas hums and continues fiddling with the crusts. “Will I ever see you like that?”

“Only if we don’t have a choice.” Dean sighs and grabs another piece of bread. “I’m not hunting anymore. I don’t want to go back on the road. I’m going to keep selling overpriced flowers to people cheating on spouses or wanting to make their friends feel better or tell their mom they still think about them. Sure, there’s a shotgun full of salt under the counter along with a silver knife, but I don’t plan on using them. It’s just in case.”

“Because you know things aren’t always as they seem.” Cas sighs and shakes his head. “Well, I was expecting something like you only have sex with the lights off, or you’re secretly a fury, serious but not that you deal with monsters and have killed a lot of them.”

Dean sighs, looking over Sam who shrugs, no advice since he’s never been in that situation before. “Is it too much?”

Cas looks at Sam. “Did you hunt as well?”

Sam wobbles his hand back and forth. “Not often. But Dean and I talked about any hunts he went on. And there’s no hiding what Dad did.”

“Did he ever kill an innocent?”

Sam raises an eyebrow and looks over at Dean. “If a monster has killed enough people for hunter to find it, then it’s not innocent anymore. And spirits are human anymore, warped by the fact that they’re dead but shouldn’t be here anymore. Once they’re violent, there’s nothing we can do but force them through to the other side.”

“So that’s a no.” Cas looks at Dean this time. “Have you ever killed a person?”

Dean shakes his head. “No. The closest was a witch, but she had already killed four people, so she doesn’t count.”

Cas looks like he’s thinking it through before nodding. “I agree. So, if I wanted to take you on a date, there aren’t any special rules just because you used to be a hunter?”

“Nope. I’m a normal guy with an interesting past,” Dean tells him as Sam snickers at them.

“Interesting is one way of putting it,” Sam says, batting away the bread Dean throws at him.

“Shut up, Sam.” Dean flips him off, and Cas laughs at them while getting up to sit in Dean’s lap.

“Don’t worry.” Cas kisses his cheek, and Dean has to relax after an instinctual tensing. He’s not used to showing affection in front of Sam. Meaningless sex is easy, feelings not so much especially when Dean doesn’t know what he’s feeling. “I like your brother.”

“That makes one of us.” Cas hand rubbing along his arm helps Dean stay relaxed. That and Sam not looking bothered by it. “Why are you here anyway?”

Sam shrugs. “I called your cell, but you didn’t answer. And then I saw a picture online with you in the background. I’ve got time off, and I wanted to find you.”

“Yeah? Did you look for Dad?”

“No.” Sam shakes his head, not explaining further.

“Well, you can visit anytime,” Dean tells him. “Just text first; I’ll give you my new number. I miss you.”

They work together to clear the tables and clean up the kitchen. Sam and Dean talk Cas into playing poker then take him for all he’s worth. Cas flips them off but doesn’t look put out when they promise to play with peanuts next time.

When it’s late enough for Cas to leave, Sam makes himself scarce, and Dean walks Cas to the door. “Thanks for coming over.” Dean wraps his arms around Cas, kisses his cheek. “Thanks for listening.”

Cas smiles and kisses Dean back. “This was important to you. Me, I would have waited a few months before saying something, but that’s me. If you wanted to share now, then you should share now. I’m just touched you care enough.”

Dean shrugs, feeling a little awkward but not enough to run away. “I’m new to this whole dating thing. Sorry if I get things a little out of order.”

“What people think you should do doesn’t matter. Whatever makes you comfortable, and whatever makes me feel comfortable.” Cas moves closer, pressing their bodies together. “How about you let me take you to dinner? I’d love to take you out, and we can do all those things you haven’t done before.”

Dean tries to picture himself going on dates with some of the women he’s slept with, but it always turns into Cas. “Okay. Let’s wait a few days though, wait for Sam to head back to school. And then the rush I’ll have at Valentine’s Day. So after that.”

“As long as you let me work on the windows before that.” Cas takes a few steps back, rolling his hips and winking at Dean. “I might prefer working outside without a shirt on.”

His brain freezes when it tries to picture a shirtless Cas, and his chuckle snaps him out of it. “Yeah, maybe. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.” One last kiss, then Cas heads home.

Back inside, Sam looks up from his spot on the sofa. “So, how long have you known him?”

Dean drops down in the chair across from the sofa. “About a week?”

Sam sighs. “And you decided to tell him?”

“Look, I know I’m new to relationships, but there’s something about him.” Now Dean sighs. “And this is my home now. I don’t want to lie to my neighbor.”

Dean’s not sure if he’s trying to convince Sam or himself, but there really is something about Cas. Maybe it’s that he feels comfortable with him after only a week. Maybe it’s just because he’s the first man Dean’s been with.

Whatever it is, Dean survived this long trusting his instincts, and he’s going to keep trusting them. “Do you have an issue with him?” In any way?

Sam shakes his head. “He’s pretty cool, I guess. You’re going to date him?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, I am.”

“Good for you.” Sam pokes at Dean’s leg. “You deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks.” Dean studies his brother. His cheeks are rounded, only small bags under his eyes, relaxed but focused, he looks good. “You deserve it too. College going well?”

Sam launches into a spiel about his time at college, learning new things, meeting new people. Dean watches him, so glad he got the chance to go to Stanford. Sammy deserves this as much as he says Dean deserves to be happy.

They end up watching an old werewolf movie, laughing at the inaccuracies until they’re too tired to pay attention. Dean could head back to his room, but Sam’s warm, and he wants to be closer to his brother. It’s hard to go months apart after living together for so long.

He’s almost asleep when Sam shifts next to him, bumping him. “Can I stay here over the summer?”

“Of course.”

“Good.”

Dean hums, settled. No hunting, new friend, and Sammy still around. Life couldn’t be better.


End file.
